In the Beginning
by Harpospoke
Summary: Being a vampire is not what defines Abby.  Here is where her story began.
1. Sunny days

**Chapter 1**

_April, 1693 Virginia territory_  
_Charles City Shire_

A small group of young children sat under a tree laughing as the evening sun began its descent toward the horizon. The plantation stretched out over the rolling hills behind them covered with tobacco plants. All the children lived here with their families. The social structure among the children did not follow convention as the children of the plantation owners freely mixed with the children of the plantation workers. Ideas of "class" had not yet entered their world.

Some distance away, a woman emerged from the largest house on the plantation and looked toward the children.

"Abigail!"

A young blonde girl in the center of the group made a face. Her mother often called to her when she was most immersed in her favorite games. With a sigh, she looked at her playmates with a look of resignation, rose to her feet, waved goodbye and ran toward her mother's voice.

"Yes Mother...coming!"

Hannah Berkeley stood on the porch of the large dwelling with a young boy by her side and watched her pretty daughter run toward her. She turned to the boy.  
"You were right, Thomas...she was over by the woods again."  
"I knew she would be, Mama."

Abigail slowed as she approached the porch and playfully made a face at Thomas. She was a bright and happy child, with a love of reading and playing games. Despite her mild teasing, she was deeply devoted to her younger brother Thomas and would defend him fiercely if anyone dared to abuse him verbally or physically.

"Mother, we were going to play 'Ring around the Roses'...can I not remain with my friends a while longer?"  
Hannah pinched her daughter's cheek.  
"Your desire for games is never wanting, is it?" Hannah gently chided her daughter, "...But it is time for our supper...and afterward your lessons...quick now...in you go!"

Abigail obediently strode past her mother with only a slight hint of reluctance. Though games were a passion, supper and lessons also had an allure. She took her brother's hand and led him inside.

Hannah, at age 28, was a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and a pleasant demeanor which made her well-liked by everyone who knew her. Many men had secretly coveted her for years but at the same time other women could not resent her for it. She was English and deeply religious, as were most in the Shire...but also well-educated. She had strived to pass on her love of knowledge to her two children and taught them well. Abigail the eldest at 12 and Thomas, age 10.

The Berkeleys were not aristocrats, but were very well positioned within the Shire as successful planters. Captaine Gabriell Berkley had made quite a business out of his tobacco plantation. Several dozen indentured servants from England and Africa lived and worked on the land and were treated well. Many had successfully completed their 4 years and moved on to become land owners themselves. Others opted to stay with the family beyond their term of service. All admired and respected Gabriell Berkley and his family as honorable.

Hannah followed her children into the large house and went to help the cook with the table settings. Her husband had recently procured some new utensils from England that she was eager to try. She adjusted her cap and apron and approached their African cook, Tituba.  
"Tis certain that Gabriell shall bring quite the appetite for this meal...should we prepare a grand feast?"  
Tituba smiled warmly at Hannah. Since immigrating to Jamestown a few years before, Tituba had enjoyed her stay with the Berkeleys. The promise of land had been the lure, but one never knew what sort of arrangement would await upon disembarking the ship. The entire Berkeley family was a godsend for her and her family. They felt at home here.

Supper began. Tituba set the food on the table as Hannah gathered the family. The children took their places first. Last as usual was Gabriell. He arrived this time with his brother, Nathaniel, and both sat together at the head of the table immersed in a nonstop flurry of discussion. Gabriell was the eldest brother, well-mannered, gregarious, and handsome. Nathaniel was smaller of frame with a less pleasant demeanor and physical appearance.  
"You should consider it well, Gabriell. 'Tis currently the manner of doing business."  
"I will give it my full attention later, brother...my hunger insists that we begin! The apple brown betty demands our endearment!"  
Gabriell winked at his children with the last statement. Abigail and Thomas beamed at their father and all bowed their heads in prayer.

* * *

The after supper routine. The family gathered together in the big front room for instruction for the children. Abigail always looked forward to this. She loved reading. In particular she always hoped for a chance to read from her favorite...the play-book of Romeo and Juliet. This evening, her father had decided on a different assignment.

"Read 'The Country-mans Apocrapha' from the almanac, please Abigail."

"Yes father." Abigail said with some audible disappointment in her voice. She began as instructed.

_"If Stars do Rule the World, then never fancy_  
_What's told from them is wrought by Nigromancy,_  
_Th' admiring Rusticks faith will shrink perhaps,_  
_Hearing the Tidings of such After claps._  
_Who marvels not? The Sun shall once stand still,_  
_Whilst that the Earth shall round him dance his fill._  
_Signes in the Sky shall now be seen; for there,_  
_A fiery Dog will chase a skittish Hare."_

"Very good, Abigail. It's an older passage, but I quite enjoy it. You read it aloud so very well."  
Abigail smiled broadly at her father's praise. She sensed opportunity and seized upon it.  
"Can I not now read from Romeo and Juliet, father?"  
Gabriell smiled at his daughter.  
"Child...you will make me regretful of ever fostering your curiosity toward those play-books."  
Abigail looked downward and smiled...knowing full well that her father loved to tease her about her favorite story...but that he ultimately always appeased her wishes.

Gabriell reached for the copy of Romeo and Juliet that he had brought with him from England a few years before. He paused to gaze at it for a moment.  
"Tis a shame. I fear the name William Shakespeare shall disappear from the history books. Rare is it to find a person today who is aware of his great works. We may be in possession of one of the few copies of his plays in the colonies."  
He handed the play-book to his daughter and took pleasure in the way her eyes lit up as she accepted it from him.

"Father...why is it that no others in the Shire know of Shakespeare?"

"Well daughter, there were many among those who traveled to the colonies years ago who consider the performance of plays to be immoral. I hold out hope that idea will fall out of favor soon. Those of us who came over later are more open to the theater."

Abigail paused to consider.  
"I cannot comprehend it father...the stories are so beautiful."

"One must be cautious, Abigail. An observance of religious faith is indeed a very good thing, but the idea that god would frown upon the performance of a play as a practice strains the bounds of faith." "Let us not forget the tragic occurrences this year past in Salem and the unfortunate 'witch trials'. Religion must guide us, but never consume us."

Abigail nodded and began as Tituba stoked the hearth nearby.

_"SCENE II. Capulet's orchard...Enter Romeo..._  
_ROMEO_  
_He jests at scars that never felt a wound._

_JULIET appears above at a window_

_But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?_  
_It is the east, and Juliet is the sun._  
_Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,_  
_Who is already sick and pale with grief,_  
_That thou her maid art far more fair than she..."_

Nathaniel cleared his throat.  
"Pardon me, Abigail...if I may take this opportunity to speak with your father?"

Abigail fell silent and obediently sat down on her chair. She did manage to irritably glance at her uncle as she did so.

"Gabriell...I do wish you would give some thought to what I proposed for the plantation."  
Gabriell made no attempt to hide his displeasure at his brother's interruption of Abigail's reading.

"Frankly Nathaniel, I find this practice of enslavement to be distasteful in its entirety. Some planters are now placing the considerations of expense above considerations of morality. We are making quite enough profit to sustain us. Indentured servitude is a fair bargain for all parties. Is _enough_...not sufficient?"

"At least consider extending the contracts of servants to the seven years that is common practice. A four year term is too brief to be of any use."

"Again brother, we are not starving. And you will note that the number of those who choose to remain with us is plentiful."

Nathaniel snorted. "For a price! ...Your stubbornness is a vexing thing, brother. Other plantations will flourish while we flounder in our...morality!"

"That's quite enough, brother! You have my answer. Let us speak of it no more."

* * *

Nathaniel stood outside in the dark. Through the walls of the house, he could hear his niece reading from the play-book. He glanced through the window at the happy family gathered around listening to her read and burned with indignation.  
"You are a fool, brother...yet you are in possession of all..."

He turned away from the window with the image of Hannah still in his mind. So sure he had been years before that she would be his wife. But instead it had been Gabriell who captured her heart. Always it was Gabriell who won the day...no matter the task, no matter the contest.  
"...it is unjust" he grumbled.

Nathaniel folded his arms over his chest and stared out into the night sky. He could not help resenting his brother...his love for Hannah remained strong through the years. Nathaniel had not taken a wife due to this. No other woman could compare to her in his eyes.

In his eyes, the children should be his. Part of Nathaniel was certain that had Hannah agreed to be his bride, she would have been able to bear more children. Though Nathaniel tried to endear himself to them, the children never quite warmed to him. His brusque manner was off-putting and they no doubt sensed his seething resentment of their father. Young Abigail looked almost exactly like Hannah so her rejection was worst of all.

Feeling a bit cursed by god, Nathaniel had began to harbor forbidden thoughts. Knowing his niece would soon be of age, he considered the idea of stealing her and escaping into other territories in the Colonies or even the unexplored wilderness. If he couldn't have Hannah, Abigail could be his second chance. But these were only fantasies born in the dark of night while staring at a blank ceiling...morning chased them away. It was a foolish and dangerous thinking.

Heaving a sigh, Nathaniel turned to the house and gazed once more at Hannah through the window. There was nothing to comfort him this night. He turned away and whistled sharply. A large wolf emerged from the shadows and bounded to his side. Most would recoil in terror at the sight of the carnivore, but Nathaniel showed no fear. He reached down and stroked the animal's head. The wolf remained stoic but tilted his head to the side with pleasure at his master's touch.  
"Good Fala."

No other human could approach Fala and Nathaniel did nothing to discourage the wolf's behavior. Solitude was something that was part of his nature after all these years alone. They were a pack of two. Other settlers and the servants avoided them.

"Let us go home, Fala."

If nothing else, he knew he had the canine's undying affection after nurturing him from a pup. A deep sigh escaped him that came from a hopeless place. Nathaniel decided at that moment that he was destined to live out his days alone. He shot one glance back at his brother's house and felt the bitterness rise in him once more.

The two companions walked off into the dark woods separating the Berkeley brothers' houses. The dark enveloped them. But it was a walk they had taken together many times. Nathaniel touched the blunderbuss pistol in his belt as a matter of habit. One good thing his brother had done for him was to obtain that handy weapon. It could fire several pellets at close range...useful against multiple enemies. Nathaniel was not timid or cowardly and Fala was ever vigilant, but it never hurt to be prepared. Especially this night when it seemed he could FEEL the darkness. They walked on. Fala guided them. One more bend in the path and his house would be in view. One more bend...

In the inky black, the figure of a man seemed to appear before them in an instant. Fala instantly exploded with a fury Nathaniel had never seen from him before. Fala did not charge...but instead backed away slowly. Nathaniel had barely a moment to consider how odd this was before the man was upon him.


	2. Dark thoughts

** Chapter 2**

Powerful hands drew him close. No chance to break free, the grip was like iron. The man leaned in and Nathaniel felt breath on his neck. Teeth...Biting. Pain flared out from his throat like a cold river of thorns. The shock of feeling the essence of his life being drawn away from him stunned him into submission. Nathaniel fell into the embrace of the powerful man. He felt himself slipping away...from everything. A darkness crept into the cold.

But then Nathaniel was falling. The feel of grass on his cheek. Breath came back to him. His mind returned. Sounds reached his ears. A voice.

"You are a foolish beast...how dare you approach me! It would have been better for you if you had acted in the same manner as your brothers and flown from my sight!"

Nathaniel rolled over to his side and looked toward the voice. His eyes could now make out the figure of the man advancing toward Fala. The wolf was standing his ground growling at Nathaniel's attacker. Nathaniel fumbled for his blunderbuss pistol as quickly as he could. Struggling to sit up, Nathaniel watched helplessly as the man grabbed Fala by the neck and lifted the growling animal off the ground.

"Stop!" the words rang out in Nathaniel's head...but his throat made only a whisper. The man nevertheless turned toward Nathaniel while holding the wolf aloft and smiled an evil smile.

"Oh...this is your pet...I see...that was his undoing...attempting to save you." With that he bent the wolf in half...snapping his spine like a twig. One small yelp of pain was all Fala could manage before the man dropped him into the grass in a heap of fur.

With impossible speed, the man was again upon Nathaniel and lifted him off the ground by his shirt. He grinned again. Only...this was not quite a grin. It was an unholy smile of death...revealing a row of deadly teeth. He pulled Nathaniel close.

A shot rang out. Nathaniel dropped to the ground again as the man staggered backward and clutched at his face. He screamed in rage. It was not the scream of a human. The unholy sound bored into Nathaniel's head and burned at the inside of his skull. Nathaniel managed to struggle to his feet holding the smoking blunderbuss as the dark man gurgled and staggered to and fro. It could just be made out in the dark that the man's face was torn open by the multiple shots from the pistol.

Nathaniel pulled his knife as the man actually seemed to recover a bit and stagger toward him.  
"You won't see another sunrise, villain!"

Voices. Along the path. Coming toward them. The man seemed to stop for a moment to listen, then he turned and was gone. An empty spot marked where he stood. Nathaniel could only stand there while several workers rushed up behind him with guns at the ready. He looked once at his ruined friend lying by the path and collapsed.

* * *

Red. A river of red engulfed Nathaniel. He swam through it, trying hard to keep his head above water. But his feet were lead and dragged him below the surface again and again. He gasped for breath. He choked on something vile.

"The Algonquians have not returned. This was a cowardly attack." Gabriell said to his wife as he stood by his brother's bedside watching him thrash around and struggle to breathe. Nathaniel suddenly rolled over on his side and threw up.

"Has he been poisoned, Gabriell?" Hannah asked.  
"Perhaps...the wound on his neck should not cause this fever and delirium. He has not emerged from his stupor since yesterday's assailment ."  
"Why would they attack us? We have no quarrel with them."  
"That is a question in need of an answer, my dear...and I will have it!"

Gabriell turned and strode from the room. Hannah looked after him for a moment before turning her attention back to Nathaniel. She looked at the wounded man with concern and sat beside his bed. She knew very well that her husband's brother still harbored feelings for her and could not help feeling sympathy for him. Back in England, he had proposed marriage to her before Gabriell had returned from his last stint aboard his naval ship in pursuit of pirates along the southern coast of the American colonies. Hannah had turned him down as politely as she could, but she knew he had taken a powerful emotional blow.

She had not even known for sure at the time that Gabriell would offer his own proposal upon his return, but he did just that during their first evening together. Hannah had happily accepted and Gabriell and she were wed immediately. Soon after he had announced that he had been rewarded for his service to his country with a section of land in Virginia and intended to immigrate there with his new bride. He also offered his brother the chance to share in the enterprise with his own share of the land. On the way over, during a calm day in the Atlantic Ocean, Hannah had broken the news to Gabriell that she was pregnant with their first child.

"No!"  
Nathaniel's cry broke Hannah's reverie. She sat upright in her chair and leaned over her brother in law.  
"Nathaniel? Are you now regaining yourself?"

Opening his eyes, the first sight Nathaniel saw was Hannah sitting beside his bed. Immediately emotion filled his mind. Much stronger emotion that he had ever felt toward her before. Almost...violent in its power. He reached for her and grasped her hand.  
"Hannah...my dearest..."  
Hannah tried to draw her hand back but his grip was surprisingly powerful. The look in his bloodshot eyes was almost that of a frightened animal. Her empathy won out and she placed her other hand on top of his.  
"You are recovering your strength, Nathaniel. It is good...we worried much over your condition."  
"My condition..."

Memories of the attack flooded back. "Hannah! I was attacked!"  
"Yes...yes...we know of it. The workers heard your shot and came running. The Algonquians whom attacked you fled before they could be engaged."  
Nathaniel paused.  
"Hannah...it was not the Algonquians. It was a single man. He killed Fala with his bare hands as I watched...as easily as...one would fold a bed covering."

Hannah doubted that. The large pet wolf had been known to charge an entire pack of other wolves and had even repelled several Indians on one occasion. If there was a more fearsome creature in existence, it was unknown to her.  
"You are fevered, Nathaniel. Fala protected you...there must have been many to have bested him."  
"No! I tell you, there was but one. He was the most formidable man I've ever seen in action. If not for Fala..." Here he drifted off, remembering his companion. Then he turned his eyes back to Hannah.  
"Was the man found? I unloaded my piston into his face."  
Hannah shook her head. "No one was found. The men are out now scouting the hills."

Nathaniel somehow doubted they would find anyone. The man had seemed to disappear at the end. He released Hannah's hand, sat up in the bed, and pondered the events. He was feeling better by the second.

"Do you possess the strength to eat, Nathaniel? Do you hunger?"

Hunger. The word expanded in his head as she said it. He did feel hunger. He looked at Hannah again. The passion for her was overpowering. He had to fight the urge to grab hold of her, throw her onto the bed, and ravish her.

But no...that wasn't it at all. He wanted something else from her. A steady beating sound became audible to his ears. He realized suddenly it was Hannah's heart! He was indeed hungry...but it was a hunger not for her sex...but to feed on her. How could such a thought enter his mind? How...

Nathaniel sat bolt upright with fear in his eyes. Just like the man that attacked him! Terrible thoughts tried to invade his conscious mind, he kept them at bay with great effort.

"What is it, Nathaniel? Should I summon Gabriell?"

Nathaniel turned toward Hannah and snarled at the mention of his brother's name. He rose from the bed and advanced toward her as she backed away from him in surprise at his demeanor.

"You would think of him...nary a second may pass without you giving him your full attention I see!"

Hannah felt real fear at the sight of her brother in law. His face was twisted into a hateful visage and he approached nearer as if he were stalking her. He seized her by the arms with overpowering strength and pulled her close. She felt his breath on her neck.

She began to call out for help.


	3. Bloodlust

**Chapter 3**

"Mother!"

Thomas had appeared at the door of the bedroom upon hearing his mother's distressed cry for help. He stood transfixed at the sight of his uncle appearing to embrace his struggling mother. Thomas' cry caused his uncle to pause and turn to face him. The eyes of his uncle looked as they had never looked before. Pale gray and cold, they glared at him. Thomas felt a chill go through his body under the withering gaze. There seemed to be no part of his uncle in those eyes. He drew back involuntarily.

Nathaniel felt wild emotion raging through his mind and body. A burning hunger was consuming him. A part of him shut down as an animal instinct took over. The vaguely familiar creature in his grasp struggled as he fixed his attention on the small boy in the doorway. He growled at the boy.

"Depart youngling!" was all he could utter in his haze.

Then another figure appeared beside the boy. Nathaniel struggled to remember the name...it seemed important somehow...

"Uncle! Stop!" Abigail cried out.

Nathaniel stopped.

The voice of the girl...Abigail...had pulled him back from...something. He quickly released Hannah and looked at her fearfully. He felt himself being pulled toward Abigail now. The madding ambrosial sound of three hearts beating reverberated in his ears all the while. An incessant drumbeat that threatened to drive him to the brink of insanity. The children ran to their mother's side and all three looked at him with alarm. Nathaniel backed away from them.

"You must leave me! Go! Run!"

Hannah pushed her children toward the door in a deliberate manner while watching Nathaniel.

"What madness has overcome you, Nathaniel?"  
"Just...go!"

Abigail took her brother's hand and quickly left the room. Hannah backed away slowly.

"I will not leave you in your time of sickness, Nathaniel!"

He turned away from her. Why would she not go? He could feel the driving hunger returning and fear rose within him. He knew he had to get far away from her. His eyes went to the window. With a thought, he leapt at the window and sailed through the glass...easily clearing the porch and landing in the grass in front of the home. Terror drove him onward and within moments he had disappeared into the woods. The brief moment between violent crashing and deathly silence was starkly dissimilar.

Hannah ran to the shattered window and looked out, but there was no sign of her crazed brother in law. She turned back and ran to her children in the main room. Both were huddled together with Abigail stroking her brother's hair and whispering calming words to him. She looked at her mother fearfully.

"Mother...what is the matter with Uncle?"  
Hannah didn't have an answer.  
"He is sick, child. Worry not...your father will return soon. You must return your brother to bed...and you with him. ...Come now...be quick!"

After the children left the room, Hannah went to the front door, opened it, and peered out into the darkness. She had never heard of whatever ailment had stricken Nathaniel. The memory of his cold touch on her skin made her shiver. She greatly wished that Gabriell would return. He had apparently taken every available servant with him to comb the woods to the west of the plantation. The imposing darkness surrounding the house held a special menace on this night, it was not comforting to know she was alone.

* * *

The trees flashed by as Nathaniel fled into the woods. His senses were alive with sights and sounds. Every detail of every blade of grass was plainly visible to him. He finally slowed and stopped after putting some distance between himself and the house of his brother. Looking around, he recognized the surrounding area...but could not believe it. He had traveled many miles in a matter of minutes.

He now could only wonder if he had gone mad. He was not out of breath, not weary, yet here he stood.

A sound to his left alerted him and he turned his attention toward it. Instantly, he knew. It was Olaudah and Broteer...husband and oldest son to the African cook Tituba. They were creeping through the brush with guns at the ready. No doubt searching under orders from Gabriell for what they believed to be native attackers from the night before. Nathaniel could hear every detail of their approach.

It then occurred to him how strange it was that he could possibly know who was approaching him. How could he? But there was no doubt who it was. He could hear their voices, their footsteps, and even smell them in the breeze.

"How can it be that I know their smell? What has befallen me?" Nathaniel whispered to himself.

He found himself drawn to the sounds. Without a thought, he was gliding on fast feet through the trees again and quickly found himself a few feet from the pair. He stopped and observed them. Neither seemed aware of him. Nathaniel contemplated this curiosity for a moment until he felt a terrible sensation returning to him. The hunger. The two heartbeats were hammering out a rhythm in Nathaniel's head. It was intoxicating and fearsome in its power. He felt himself being drawn toward them. The source of that rhythm was an irresistible allure.

Nathaniel reached out and dug his fingers into a tree to stop his forward progress. He closed his eyes and clamped his teeth together with the effort. The two men walked past him and continued on their way. As they put distance between themselves and Nathaniel, his hunger subsided somewhat. He released his grip on the tree and leaned against it...trembling from the exertion. A new irrefutable truth was forming in his mind.

"I must depart...far away from this place...I cannot bear it!"

Nathaniel, almost in a panic, turned west and began to sprint as fast as he could. He was dimly aware of miles passing beneath his feet but did not slow for many minutes. Finally he stopped by a stream that sprang up in front of him as he emerged from the edge of the woods. He leaned down to drink from it...but felt repulsed by the idea and could not drink. In frustration, he lashed out at the water, sending a cascade of the cool liquid flying into the woods on the opposite side of the stream.

"What is this malady? Am I truly cursed by Satan himself?"  
Nathaniel sensed a presence before he heard the voice.

_"Why no...you are blessed by me!"_


	4. Revelations

** Chapter 4**

Nathaniel rose and spun around furiously. It was the man who had attacked him the previous night, standing a few feet away and regarding him with a mocking disdain.

Nathaniel launched himself at the man. Almost effortlessly, the man side-stepped to allow Nathaniel to fly past, bang against a tree, and slide to the ground in an undignified manner.

"Do not waste your efforts. You are as yet far too weak to actually harm me. Perhaps after you have fed you will be up to the task." The man punctuated his statement with a derisive laugh.

Nathaniel glared at the man from the foot of the tree. The desire to kill him was strong, but the desire to know what was happening to him was stronger. Nathaniel slowly rose to his feet and composed himself slightly.

With a baleful stare, Nathaniel addressed him.  
"Who...what...are you?.. A demon come to curse me for my evil thoughts?"

The man only smiled. An amused and cruel smile.

"Ahh...I see you have questions! Of course! Shall I enlighten you?" A slight French accent colored his words.  
He motioned for Nathaniel to come nearer. Nathaniel acquiesced and drew closer.  
"Do you not yet grasp the difference in your own self? Do you not feel your senses for the first time? The strength in your limbs?"  
The man let the words sink in before forging ahead.  
"The term your mind is no doubt searching for but unable to accept is, 'Vampyre'. It is what I am...and it is now what you are. You have...as you most poetically put to me during our first encounter...witnessed your last sunrise."

The man paused to see if Nathaniel recognized the word. Not seeing the light of understanding in his face, the man continued.  
"I am perhaps known to you. My name is François l'Olonoise." said the man proudly. He paused again in anticipation of recognition.

Nathaniel did recognize the name. François l'Olonoise was a notorious pirate known for his immense cruelty. Nathaniel had heard Gabriell speak of him. But that depraved individual was thought to be long dead...slaughtered on the island of Las Pertas by the natives residing there. He looked closely at François but saw nothing there that would help him understand. The man François l'Olonoise had not been heard from since 1668.

"It is not possible..."  
"So you **have **heard of me!" François looked pleased. "Do you doubt it so after the events of the past two nights? What do you imagine I may gain from inventing a tale for you?"

It was all too confusing for Nathaniel. He shook his head.

"Who you are is of no real consequence. The important question is, why...did you do this to me?"

François appeared to be slightly insulted that his identity was so easily brushed aside.  
"I assure you it was not my intent. Your pet interrupted me as I was about to end your life and your pitiful pistol slowed me long enough for those pesky laborers to come rushing in. ...So...here you stand before me. Be grateful for I do not bestow _the gift_ willingly."

Nathaniel stared at him in astonishment.  
"Gift? You consider this bloodlust a gift? ...My will was barely sufficient to prevent me from taking the life of my beloved! I now know I can never return to the bosom of my family for risk of harming them!"

"Distance will not sate your lust, foolish one. You now struggle with the might of the emotion you inherited with the change. That which you were feeling the night of our encounter has been multiplied. It will **never** leave you. Your only recourse is to act upon it and be done with it! You **will **be drawn back to them no matter what you do."  
François paused to assess the impact of his words.  
"My words have the ring of truth, do they not? ...You cannot deny what you feel."

Nathaniel stood motionless. François' words were incomprehensible, inconceivable, impossible.  
"I cannot! They are my family!"

François looked at Nathaniel as one would look at a child.  
"Be assured...you can and you will. They are unworthy of your loyalty. You are beyond them now. They exist to nourish you...nothing more. They are cattle. And worst of all, they now serve only to weigh you down in spirit. It is something you must attend to. Once your formative emotion is dispatched, you will be unburdened by it."

Nathaniel backed away and shook his head.  
"Lies! I will leave this place...I will never do as you say!"  
François drew himself up to his full height and looked at Nathaniel with contempt.  
"I will not hear of it! If you feel incapable of settling your troubled spirit, I shall do it for you."

Nathaniel stared at the man in shock at this pronouncement.  
"Why would you do such a thing? If it is my burden as you claim, the decision should rest with me alone!"  
The vampyre leaned forward.  
"Do not pretend your fate is yours to decide. You are of me. My spawn are more powerful and more pure than the deficient offspring of other tawdry wretches common to our race. I will not see you diminished by petty attachments that mean less than nothing. I would sooner end you than allow you to exist in a contemptible and pitiable state. Be glad that is not my whim...for I have done such a thing before!"

Nathaniel's mind raced. What the vampyre suggested was unthinkable. The thoughts danced in a dark corner of his mind...for there was a nagging truth in the words. But he could not bear thinking of it. He put his hands to his temples as the horror of it washed over him. Nathaniel stepped forward suddenly and faced François.

"End me if that is the alternative! I cannot do as you say. And if it is true that my previous sinful thoughts will drive me to sinful actions, then I have become a rabid dog that deserves no less than a rapid journey to oblivion!"

François' eyes narrowed as he peered at Nathaniel. He moved forward with incomprehensible speed, grabbed Nathaniel by the neck, and lifted him off the ground. He held him this way for a few moments while Nathaniel struggled to free himself. Finally, he dropped him to the ground.

"No...you do not really wish to perish. You cling to life even as you sermonize on your noble choice. Perhaps you have deluded yourself, but do not imagine I share your delusion."

François spun around and began to walk away from Nathaniel. He paused and glanced over his shoulder.

"I will leave you to think upon it. Go where you will...I will find you." Another pause. "And it would be wise for you to feed soon. I would suggest one of the loathsome creatures from your former home that are now stumbling around in the bushes in search of me."

With that François leapt into the air and quickly disappeared from view beyond the nearby trees. Nathaniel heard a distinct fluttering of wings, but ignored the implication of that sound. He could not reconcile everything in his mind and leaned heavily against the trunk of a tree to gather his thoughts.

"Is this my fate? ...Or do I even now rest in my bedchamber with a fevered fantasy of my own invention tormenting my sleep?"

Nathaniel shook his head forcefully. It was all too much to digest. Self-pity overwhelmed him. Tears formed in his eyes as reality descended upon him. He looked at his hands and knew what he was. There was a white-hot fury boiling deep inside him...drawing him back to his home.

"I am wretched born and am fated to a wretched existence or a wretched end! 'Tis all my own doing...my evil thoughts have borne a foul fruit that I must now harvest."

Filled with hopelessness, Nathaniel slid down the tree and sat hunched over in despair. François had read him well...he felt panic at the thought of dying. Nathaniel cursed his cowardice under his breath. Sitting in a bundle of self-loathing staring at the ground, a realization came to him.

Where was François going?

Nathaniel rose quickly. "_**East**_!"


	5. The Visitor

**Chapter 5**

Abigail lay in bed staring at the ceiling of the bedroom she shared with her brother Thomas. The events of the preceding two nights were unsettling to her. The attack on her uncle in the wood, his subsequent illness which had confined him to bed the entire next day, and finally him attacking Abigail's mother and fleeing into the woods...none of it made any sense. Now she worried about her father as he and the servants searched the countryside for her uncle's attackers. She could sense danger in the air. Sounds occasionally came through the wall from the main room. It was her mother...still awake. The urge to rise and go to her mother to ask about her father was overwhelming.

Abigail turned onto her side and looked at her brother asleep in his bed. She smiled as she listened to his breathing. It was such a normal everyday sound in the midst of the abnormality. Her little brother, asleep and dreaming was the way it was **supposed **to be. Her smile faded quickly as her mind returned to how much she wished the rest of her life would return to normal.

She turned onto her back and closed her eyes...wishing elusive sleep to come.

* * *

Nathaniel rushed through the trees at top speed. His only thought was that he must return home before François got there. Several miles flashed past him when finally a thought hit him like a bolt. Nathaniel abruptly halted as emotion overcame him.

_"Is this some contrivance by the pirate l'Olonoise? Does he mean to trick me into returning home...knowing full well that I may be at the mercy of this abominable allurement to harm my family?"_

Nathaniel grasped a nearby tree with both hands and leaned his head against its thick trunk. He felt as if no matter what he did, it would end in tragedy. Panic began to rise in him. ...Or was it the hunger he felt? His mind was cluttered with thoughts of heartbeats, the loathsome face of François l'Olonoise, and his family.

After a few moments, Nathaniel was able to focus his thoughts. _"Is it my very existence that brings this peril to my kin? Would they be safe if I were able to snuff myself out?"_

Instinctively, Nathaniel reached to his belt. The blunderbuss pistol was not there of course. But then he remembered that the pistol had only temporarily disabled l'Olonoise and he wondered aloud, "Can I die?"

Nathaniel held fast to the tree as the powerful urges within him, both to aid and harm his family, pulled him eastward. He knew l'Olonoise had threatened to kill him, so there must be a way. Nathaniel also reasoned that the pirate would not surrender that bit of information lightly.

_"But then, who can stop l'Olonoise if I am dead?...There must be a way!"_

Nathaniel faced east, steadied himself, and lit out toward his former home.

* * *

Hannah glanced at the longcase clock in the corner of the room. Midnight. The swinging pendulum held her attention as its lazy motion marked the passage of time. It had made the journey to the colonies with her and had marked the minutes of her family ever since.

A soft knock on the front door interrupted her reminiscent moment. Knowing that Gabriell would not knock, she rushed to the door assuming a servant had returned with news. She opened the door quickly.

An unfamiliar face greeted her. A tall angular man with a long hooked nose, ornate clothing, and adornments. As Hannah stared at him with surprise, he looked at her with an amused expression and boldly examined her from head to foot. Hannah felt a sense of menace emanate from him and stepped backward involuntarily.

Hannah's sense of decorum returned quickly, "Pardon me sir, I was expecting...someone else."

The man calmly replied to her with the barest hint of a French accent, "Think nothing of it, madam. It's quite understandable at this late hour. I bring news from your husband." He gestured toward the door, "May I enter?"

Hannah's instincts screamed at her to refuse him. But he appeared to be a civilized man. She could think of no logical reason to doubt him. Of course news of Gabriell was foremost on her mind. Slowly, she nodded her head.

The man's expression changed slightly to a look of irritation. But he smiled at her. There was something artificial about that smile, Hannah thought.

"My apologies Madam, I could not hear you...did you mean to say I could enter your home?"

Hannah nodded again but caught herself this time and realized her impoliteness. She moved away from the door and gestured for him to enter.

"Of course sir...forgive my manner...you may enter."

Now the smile on the man's face seemed to broaden as he stepped into the main room. He looked around the room a moment.  
"A very agreeable dwelling for the so-called 'New World'".

He moved with an easy gliding manner to the door of the children's bedroom and peered in at them. Both children were now asleep. He looked back at Hannah.

"Such comely little moppets! I hope to get to know them soon."

Hannah watched him inspect the home with a puzzled expression, but was eager to hear the news.  
"Good sir, if I may press you...you mentioned that you conveyed news from my husband?"  
The man turned to face Hannah with that amused expression on his face again and bowed to her with a flourish.  
"Ah! But of course! Naturally you would be eager to hear that your husband and his band of underlings are even now knocking about among the trees looking for the attacker who fell upon your brother-in-law." Here he paused, "But if I may say so, they aren't proving very capable at the task."

Hannah was taken aback by his sudden rude manner and bristled at the remark. Her normal good temper was proving difficult to keep in check in the presence of this man. "I would thank you to keep your opinions on that matter to yourself, sir. Do you have any news or is the purpose of this visit only to relate misinformed evaluations of Master Berkley to me?"

The man seemed to rise to the challenge. "Interesting! Do you assume my opinion is misinformed, Mrs. Berkley?"

Hannah stood firm against the man's withering stare. "Yes...yes I do. You should know that my husband is a renowned officer in the Royal navy who had many successes against the Barbary corsairs and in manhunts for disreputable pirates off the shores of the Colonies. The very land you stand upon was a gift from the English crown for his services."

Here the amused look on the man's face was accompanied by a chuckle.  
"Indeed. I'm sure that is all very true. Do you recall your husband ever speaking of the pirate François l'Olonoise?"

Hannah frowned. She considered asking the man to leave, but her manners prevented her from doing it. The memory of Gabriell relating the stories of the wicked l'Olonoise years before came back to her. He was perhaps the most vile pirate to ever exist, known for torturing his captives and even cutting them into pieces while they screamed in agony. It was said he even ate the heart of one victim while he was still alive.

"Yes...that detestable marauder eluded my husband for a while, but met his end nevertheless."

The man leaned forward, "So l'Olonoise escaped your husband and so has the one who attacked your brother-in-law...yes?"

"I only have your word on the latter...and I must pronounce your view less convincing than you seem to believe. The idea that a lone attacker was responsible is difficult to believe in the first place. But if my husband is in pursuit of a villain, that villain would do well to depart lest he be awarded the punishment earned!"

The man considered Hannah.  
"You are unfailing in your confidence I see!"  
He paused before continuing with a boastful tone, "Would you be surprised to learn, milady, that I am the man your husband pursued in both instances? That I...am François l'Olonoise?"

Hannah was confounded by the odd claim. Who was this man? Was this a tasteless joke? Without a thought, she blurted out her thoughts.  
"That of course cannot be so. That heinous pirate met his just end many years ago on an island in the southern seas. Your outrageous claim is not amusing if that was your intent."

"Naturally you doubt me, but I have allegedly _died_ many times over many years to serve my own ends. Being believed dead is quite useful."

While he spoke, Hannah glanced around for the long rifle that was kept close at hand by the fireplace. The man's manner was disturbing and causing her to trust her first instincts about him. Suddenly she felt very alone.

l'Olonoise observed her with disdainful amusement.  
"Do not trouble yourself with thoughts of aggression. You are but a child compared to me."  
With that l'Olonoise was beside Hannah and holding her firmly in his grasp.  
"Let us drop all pretense. You are the type of haughty insolent woman I would normally be only too happy to torment and feast upon, but I have other uses for you this night."

Hannah was too shocked to utter a sound. The power of his persona and his grasp overwhelmed her. "Let us be off, shall we?"

With that, he moved... Out the open door, through the grass in front of the house, and...into the air. Hannah was overwhelmed at the sight of the treetops rushing by beneath her. She finally closed her eyes...sure that she was dreaming.


	6. Flight

** Chapter 6**

The wind whistled past Hannah's ears. Finally, she opened her eyes. First she glanced at the creature who carried her, then she looked below at the forest flashing by just beneath them. Many thoughts came to her at once. The idea of flying through the air, fear for her family members, an intense desire to know who this being was that held her, and what his intentions were.

He held her tightly to his chest. The feel of l'Olonoise was like the feel of the trunk of a tree. The touch of his hands was cold...just like Nathaniel's touch earlier. Her strong nature allowed her faculties to return to her. The idea that she was being carried aloft as if by a bird was too incomprehensible to consider so she simply put it from her mind and turned to him with a calmness that belied the situation.

"Put me down sir! I demand it!"

l'Olonoise did not so much as glance at Hannah. An air of superiority radiated from him. It was as if she were a bleating lamb being carried to...slaughter. Hannah pushed the thought from her mind.

Without warning the tops of the trees came toward her face and she shut her eyes again. All motion stopped and l'Olonoise lowered her until her feet touched the ground. She opened her eyes to see that she was standing on a path in the forest with l'Olonoise holding her from behind. He said nothing...as if he were waiting for something. Hannah could not help trembling in fear and awe as she regained her bearings. She finally tested his strength by attempting to break away from him but he barely even noticed as he held her fast.

Finally, he broke his silence.  
"Pay heed woman...your destiny approaches."

Moments later, the sound of movement in the underbrush was audible. Something was coming fast toward them. A figure emerged running at impossible speed and abruptly halted before colliding with Hannah and l'Olonoise.

It was Nathaniel Berkley. 

* * *

"Wake up Thomas!"

Thomas protested. "What do you want of me, sister? Leave me be..."  
Abigail shook her brother again.  
"You must wake, brother! Mother is gone!"  
That bit of information got Thomas' attention. He struggled to a sitting position in bed and looked at his sister with bleary eyes.  
"Mother is gone? Where has she gone?"  
"I do not know. I was asleep and heard a man talking with her. I rose to sneak a peek and I saw them leave...at least I believe I saw them leave. The man ran from the house holding Mother in his arms." Abigail paused. "I think he took her..."

Thomas looked at Abigail suspiciously to make sure she was not playing a prank on him. She seemed sincere. One thing Thomas knew about his sister...she was a terrible liar. He could always tell when she tried to fool him.

Abigail, took her brother's hand.  
"Come Thomas...let us rise and go to Tituba's house. ...Quickly now!"

* * *

Nathaniel felt rage boil over within him at the sight of l'Olonoise holding Hannah in the path before him.  
"Vile demon! Release her! Do not sully her with your touch!"  
Nathaniel stepped toward l'Olonoise in a threatening manner but the vampyre glared at him coldly...halting him in his tracks.  
"Do you care for her so deeply? Or do you feel something else for her entirely?"  
Hannah felt relief at seeing Nathaniel which tempered the fear she felt as the hands holding her painfully tightened their grip upon her.  
"Nathaniel! He has abducted me!"

l'Olonoise only laughed, bent down, and kissed Hannah's cheek. "Yes...I have...but not for me..." he pointed at Nathaniel, "...but for him."

Nathaniel stood transfixed. The rage he felt at the sight of l'Olonoise competed with the lustful urge he felt at the sight of Hannah. He fought...using the rage to combat the hunger. And it worked.

Nathaniel sprang at l'Olonoise. The vampyre pirate was caught off-guard. The ferocity of Nathaniel's attack knocked him off his feet and slammed him into a tree. As he rose, Nathaniel's fist struck his face with a force he had not felt in many centuries...he felt the bones of his face splinter with the impact. The pain and blood blinded him. l'Olonoise roared in anger.

"You dare strike me? You unworthy wretch! I will make you pay ten-fold for this indignity!"

Hannah rose to her feet after being tossed aside by the collision of the two men. Her eyes grew wide as she watched her brother-in-law punch l'Olonoise with an awe-inspiring blow. The punch seemed to crush l'Olonoise's face and his scream was ear-piercing and...inhuman. Unbelievably, l'Olonoise then grabbed Nathaniel's arm, spun him around into the tree, and began to choke him. Hannah had never seen a fight like this one. She looked around...

Nathaniel struggled to free himself, but l'Olonoise held him tightly. Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel saw Hannah approaching with a tree branch. She no doubt was planning to strike l'Olonoise from behind. Nathaniel looked at the vampyre's bloodied and broken face and saw him grin. Nathaniel wanted to warn her...but he could not speak.

With one swift motion, l'Olonoise blocked Hannah's attempt to strike him, grabbed her by the throat, and pulled her toward Nathaniel.

"Enough! I will not be molested by the likes of you!"

l'Olonoise clenched his teeth and grinned a malevolent grin at Nathaniel.

"I have lived a thousand lifetimes! Do you believe I would meet my end at your hands? ...No...you will be dust...and I will still be here!"  
l'Olonoise pulled Hannah toward him.  
"But first...you will watch her perish..." he turned toward Nathaniel, "You hold fast to your primitive feelings you call 'love'...but it makes you weak...it makes you inferior...and it will make you suffer..."

"...because YOU will end her!"

"No!" Nathaniel turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut.

l'Olonoise slammed Nathaniel against the tree in anger and frustration.  
"You still resist? Why? She is nothing! You hunger for her...take what you want!"  
l'Olonoise growled for a moment and then leaned in to Nathaniel.  
"It is your love for her that allows you to resist. I wonder if your lust for her can overcome it!"

With that, l'Olonoise dug his thumbnail into Hannah's neck. She screamed in pain. Nathaniel struck out at the vampyre as hard as he could to no avail. He sobbed in frustration...

...but then Nathaniel noticed the stream of blood trickling down Hannah's neck. An inferno of hunger rose inside him. White hot pangs of desire stabbed at his belly and the world seemed to go red before his eyes. He felt himself irresistibly drawn to Hannah. Her neck drew closer. Whether it was because the vampyre pulled her nearer or because Nathaniel stretched toward her, he did not know. l'Olonoise laughed. Hannah felt fear rise in her as she sensed the change in Nathaniel.

"Now let us observe how strong your will is, foolish one! Here is the woman you long for...the flesh you crave...she is yours!"

In spite of himself, Nathaniel felt himself slipping away and becoming...teeth. Something inside him was awake and asserting itself like never before. The last remnants of Nathaniel's lucid mind feared that the thing which was awakening was merely a darkness that had existed long before l'Olonoise had entered his life.

He reached for Hannah...embraced her as she struggled against him...and found her neck. Her scream of pain was abruptly cut short as she relaxed in Nathaniel's arms. What Nathaniel had become felt bliss.


	7. The Hunter

**Chapter 7**

Olaudah glanced at his son. Broteer returned the look. Both now believed they were on a fool's errand. There was no sign of any Algonquian presence near the plantation. But still Gabriell pressed them onward. Olaudah had great respect for Captain Berkeley, having served onboard his vessel years before, but on this occasion Olaudah believed him to be in error. He cast a look of resignation toward his son and motioned for him to follow as they fell in line behind Gabriell Berkeley and the other men whom had regrouped at the appointed meeting spot earlier. The look of determination on Captain Berkeley's face was one Olaudah had seen before. He knew the futility of suggesting reason at this time.

There was something in the air that disturbed Olaudah. He gripped his rifle firmly with his large hands and kept his senses ready. Another glance at Broteer sent the unspoken message for him to emulate his father's caution.

* * *

l'Olonoise stood over the slumped form of Nathaniel holding a moaning Hannah in his arms and laughed. He wiped the splotches of blood from his face as he felt his rapidly healing jaw with his fingers.

"Not so noble as you think, are you?" l'Olonoise jeered. "You now can make a **_choice_** for her. Allow her to become one of us or snap her neck to give her eternal peace...your choice!"

l'Olonoise paused to listen and turned his head toward the woods.

"There is another member of your former family approaching...I will leave you to wallow in your deed...but you should know they will no doubt be eager to dispense righteous vengeance upon seeing what has transpired here..."

He leaned closer to Nathaniel.

"You can take the opportunity to deal with your brother, allow him to deal with you...or perhaps flee into the woods once more in a futile attempt to escape your fate. Matters not to me...there are others of your kin that interest me more."

Without another word, l'Olonoise rose into the air and was gone. Nathaniel was too overcome with grief and self-loathing to pay any mind to the pirate and did not even glance away from Hannah. The hunger had faded completely away now and Nathaniel felt a great strength growing in him. Lucidity was returning and new waves of despair washed over him as he recognized what he had done. At the same time he felt great relief as he realized Hannah was alive in his arms. Her breathing was slow but she lived! He gently stroked her hair from her forehead and cradled her in his arms as she weakly moaned in a semi-conscious state.

It was then that the words of l'Olonoise began to bubble to the surface of Nathaniel's mind. Concern for Hannah...was she now accursed as well? He looked down at her and knew...somehow. Then his senses picked up sounds of approaching people. Now he recalled that l'Olonoise had just warned of their approach...and that his brother Gabriell was among them.

Rage built in Nathaniel's heart as he heard his brother drawing near. A fearsome hate rose within him and he felt his new strength in a terrible way. He shook his head violently. An inner strength that perhaps Nathaniel never knew existed calmed him. He rose to his feet holding Hannah and stood waiting.

* * *

"None bring the feeling of life to my heart in quite the manner as the younglings...pity they offer such a meager ration." l'Olonoise thought to himself as he landed in the grass in front of the Berkeley house. He walked smoothly up to the door and entered without a sound. In an instant he was at the doorway to the children's bedroom.

The room was empty.

"Putain! C'est des conneries...ça me fait chier!" The vampyre spun in his tracks in a great rage and ripped the front door from its hinges as he leapt out onto the front lawn of the house. He paused for a moment to listen and bolted instantly to the front door of a smaller house near the woods. Yes...the little ones were inside this dwelling. He growled under his breath. "Merde..."

Pausing to gather his composure, l'Olonoise raised his hand and confidently knocked on the door. He waited impatiently, clenching and unclenching his fists as he listened to the woman stirring inside and finally approaching the door. He forced a pleasant look onto his face.

* * *

Tituba paused to look toward Abigail and Thomas, who were peeking out the doorway of the back room. She motioned for them to hide and was very firm about it. As soon as the children were out of sight, she turned and approached the door with caution. The children had arrived on her doorstep not long ago with a tale of a late visitor who had made off with their mother...she was not about to fall victim to a similar ruse. She was determined to make anyone with malicious intent regret their decision to knock on her door.

She held a long rifle in her hand as she released the lock and let the door swing open. Outside the doorway stood a tall distinguished looking man in fancy clothing. He appeared to be of wiry build, had a prominent nose, and many rings upon his fingers. Tituba instantly did not like the man and pointed her rifle directly at his chest.

"What business do you have with us at this late hour? Be quick with your explanation!"

He smiled at her with a slight bow and a twinkle in his eye. Despite her threat, he appeared to be in no hurry.

"Pardon the lateness of my visit Mademoiselle...I bring news." He spread his palms out in a gesture of innocence as he spoke.

Tituba was not convinced in any way. She narrowed her eyes.  
"Perhaps you bring news...and perhaps you bring ill intentions. I have heard other recent news...of an abductor who made off with Lady Berkeley not one hour ago! Perhaps you know of this abductor? Perhaps you know a great deal about him!"

The man paused.

"I do indeed fair lady! If you would merely invite me in, I can relate all I know of the matter...feel free to keep your firearm trained upon me if you wish. I will not take offense."

Tituba snorted.

"Your sense of propriety means nothing to me one way or another. I shall feel no remorse should you burst into tears where you stand."

The man seemed slightly taken aback. But quickly continued with a confident air.

"I cannot place blame upon you, good lady...for it is..."

Tituba stamped her foot on the floor and pointed the rifle directly at the man's face.  
"Enough from you sir! My immediate suggestion is that you find a more suitable place to dawdle. You risk a mortal wound from this rifle in your current location!"

The man's demeanor changed. He growled at Tituba and pointed a long finger at her.

"You would do well to attend to your words woman! I am not accustomed to enduring such ill-mannered behavior from anyone...even more rarely from a mere servant-woman!"

That was enough for Tituba.

She pulled the trigger and unloaded the gun into the chest of the stranger on her porch. She stood with a fearless glare and watched him stagger backward howling in rage and pain. She quickly picked up a second rifle propped beside the door.

"As you can see, I do not issue idle threats! You have however peaked my curiosity...have you still news of Lady Berkeley? Or would you rather I loose another lead ball into your entrails?"

The man spun around and faced her. Tituba was amazed to see that he appeared to be much less wounded than he had at first appeared. He stepped toward her.

She did not hesitate. The bang of the second rifle sounded as she fired it at him. ...She missed.

Among her other traits, those who got to know Tituba found out that she never missed when she shot at something. An almost comical look of disbelief came over her own face since she was justifiably proud of her marksmanship.

It really wasn't that Tituba missed the man...it was that _the man was no longer standing there_. For the first time, Tituba was taken aback. She glanced out the door and for an instant intended to step out into the porch, but quickly thought better of it. For reasons she could not explain, it seemed important to stay inside the house.

She instead grasped the door and quickly began to close it to reload her rifles. As the door was closing, the man appeared with both of his palms pressed against either side of the doorframe. His face was twisted in rage and his shirt bore the result of the gunshot Tituba had fired at him. He was shouting French words at her in a guttural growl that sounded like no human sound she had ever heard. Tituba stepped back instinctively as he stood there glowering at her. He looked at the doorframe itself and uttered a loud curse. He then looked directly at Tituba and pointed a long bony finger in her direction.

"You! I will make you suffer the agony of a thousand deaths! You will beg for the bliss of death...but I shall **not** grant your wish!"

He stepped back from the doorway, clenched his fists as he glared at Tituba, howled in rage...then...he was gone. Tituba had to wonder at her own eyesight. Had he gone...upward?

Tituba stood in one spot for a few moments letting it all sink in. She then quickly moved to the door, shut it, and latched it tightly. As she backed away from the door she glanced down at her hand. It was trembling. She wasn't sure what she had just witnessed, but felt a chill in her bones from the burning hatred emanating from the eyes of the man who had shrugged off a gunshot in front of her eyes.

She shook her head. This was no time for fear and superstition. She reloaded the rifles while listening intently for activity outside the house. No sound was heard.


End file.
